


Actions Speak Louder

by leiasky



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiasky/pseuds/leiasky
Summary: He’s the most frustratingly demanding and authoritative man she’s ever known so why does he relinquish that control with her?Set in a nebulous timeframe after their first night (four times) together…
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 26
Kudos: 187





	Actions Speak Louder

**Author's Note:**

> I've not quite written anything like this before. A fic with not a single piece of dialogue.
> 
> I've also never written anything for this fandom before. Which means I don't know any beta readers. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> But I do love constructive critique so if you have any, or notice anything wrong or inconsistent, please let me know and if I can update, I will!

**Actions Speak Louder Than Words**

There’s a tender gentility in the way his hands slide across her skin. In how he holds her. Makes love to her. Someone on the outside looking in would think it naiveté, uncertainty. Inexperience.

Absurd considering the impressively provocative life he’s led. The playboy who hosts orgies in his stupidly large and spotless penthouse every day of the week, who smoothly glides through his nightclub with the predatory gleam of a sex kitten who knows the affect he has on others and takes every advantage of it. She’s seen it first hand. Has been both disgusted, bewildered and turned on by it, truth be told.

And that was before she knew him. Really _knew_ him. And loved him. Every soft and bristly, sharp edge.

He lies beneath her now. Again. Dazed doe eyes watching her mouth trail down his torso with that familiar haze of lust but tempered with more than a bit of awe. Like he’s surprised that she could love him. Raw, preternatural power held in check by some celestial self-control she can’t even fathom much less understand.

In the back of her mind, she wonders how and why he so easily and willingly submits to her in this way. Gives up that vaunted and rigid control he exerts so effortlessly in every other aspect of his life.

His breathy groan as her tongue swirls around a pert nipple and her thumb and forefinger pinch the other to a rigid peek is positively sinful. Causes a wave of wet heat to pool between her thighs.

He watches her with a heavily lidded, smoldering gaze that belies the overwhelming power he could exert if he chose to take control of this moment.

With as much as she enjoys playing the dominant role in their horizontal activities, she is a great supporter of give and take in a relationship. And while his childish accusation of her taking his mojo and giving nothing back stung, she knows that this is new for him. This kind of intimacy.

This powerful, eons old soul used to effortlessly pulling the desires out of the unsuspecting public and reflecting them back afforded him his every waking wish except the one he didn’t realize _he_ truly desired.

A soul to connect with that had been granted the free will make their own choices rather than be caught up in his God-given, all-encompassing celestial magnetism.

The stupidly toned muscles of his stomach pull taut as her lips trail a confident path down his excessively long torso. And she doesn’t need to stroke his ego any further by admitting this is her favorite part of him. Long, elegant lines that his fitted suits proudly display and that her mouth positively waters to touch.

His large hands rest at her hips, fingers twitching, stroking the bare crease where her thighs meet her hips.

She can feel his erection strain against the softness of the expensive Armani pants she’s refused to let him shuck before laying him flat to feast on at her leisure.

But tonight she’s determined to break him of his rigid control. To unearth another side of this frustratingly ageless, prismatic man.

Nimble fingers make quick work of his belt but stop there and she nearly giggles at the frustrated grunt that slips from his delectably parted lips.

She flattens her palms atop his stomach and slides her hands up his chest to curl around his neck. Fingers delve into the already mussed dark hair and tug gently, earning a guttural moan that sends sharp tendrils of desire straight down her spine.

Not at all surprised that he favors a bit of pain with his pleasure, she cards her fingers through his hair and tugs again, harder this time.

A huff of hot breath bursts across her neck and his fingers tighten at her hips. Not too tight. Never too tight. He’s always cradled her as if she is a ripe fruit too easily bruised. But maybe she wants to be marked. Branded by this maddeningly flawed man in a way that makes her unmistakably his.

She straddles his narrow hips and bears down hard enough to draw out yet another long, low, sinfully arousing groan. His breath comes in shallow pants as she leans over and tugs his bottom lip into her mouth. Sucks briefly before biting down and swallowing his surprised gasp. No blood is drawn but she didn’t expect there to be. She knows the exposed vulnerability he carries now is one of the heart instead of the body. Maddeningly wonderful, self-actualizing angel. Literally.

He impatiently grinds her down atop the hardness she can feel throbbing beneath her.

He waits patiently for her to move, to lead, the effort to keep such rigid control vibrating through every tense muscle.

She leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth as she tightens her thighs around his hips, spreads her palms beneath his shoulders and pulls.

He rolls them, easily at her direction and settles snuggly between her legs, a tsunami of emotion swirling in his warm, dark eyes.

She snakes her small hands between their bodies and deftly pushes his crisp pants down his legs, the last barrier between them gone easily.

His fingers thread through her hair and his head tilts to observe her every reaction as he tugs at the golden strands. Ever the attentive lover, she knows he does this to learn her. What she likes. How she likes it. A consideration and a care she knows he bestows on her and her alone. Since the absence of his mojo leaves him bereft in a way he’s never experienced. But his wealth of knowledge in the carnal arts allows for unfathomable pleasure, even without his desire-laden superpower.

Her hands wrap tightly around his back, nails digging half moons into the smooth muscle in an effort to speed things along. The man could be maddeningly slow, unnecessarily drawing out their pleasure until she feels she will go mad with want.

He hisses a sharp exhale of hot breath against her cheek moments before she darts up to catch his mouth in a kiss that ratchets the tension into the stratosphere.

Obscenely talented fingers plunge one at a time into her drenched heat and it’s her turn to gasp as his tongue curls around hers and he cants his fingers until the edges of her vision narrows. Pleasure grows exponentially until she moans into his mouth and her hips buck into his expert touch.

She pants heavily against his lips and her body clenches with want as the familiar tension coils at the base of her spine. Lean muscle ripples beneath her hands as he pulls his fingers out of her wet heat.

He leaves her no time to catch her breath as he replaces long, too-talented-for-their-own-good fingers with something much, much better. Bigger. Thicker. Longer. His mouth slips to her chin and she gasps at the sudden pleasurable switch. But the shock is short-lived as one large hand drapes a leg over his shoulder while the other curls around her backside and hauls her hard against his thrusting hips.

The pace he sets is fast and hard and she revels in every second of it. He’s taken every bit of possible leverage and overwhelmed her with the strength and power of breathless, spin-tingling pleasure. She can only moan in ecstasy as he takes her along for the ride.

When the hand holding her leg on his shoulder snakes around her thigh to apply just the right amount of pressure on that sensitive spongy spot a few inches above where they’re joined, she sees stars. With the relentless, constant internal and external stimulation, she comes apart in his arms with a long, breathy cry.

She clutches his shoulders, tugs at his hair as he rocks her relentlessly through the fierce orgasm, his fingers dancing across that sensitive bundle which triggers yet another potent release immediately on the heels of the first.

Darkness creeps along the edge of her vision as she fights to stay conscious through the overwhelming stimulation. Her body shudders and ripples with pleasure and he groans loudly as his muscles finally tense beneath her bruising grip.

Just as she feels she will snap in two from stimulating pleasure, his mouth slides to her neck. She clutches him tightly as his lithe muscles tense and sinfully expletive words reverberate against the soft skin, his body finally body pulsing hotly into hers.

Overwhelming love for this deliciously complicated man spreads warmly through her limbs and she holds him tightly, possessively as he comes down from his orgasmic high. She’s desperate to say the all too familiar words she has uttered more than once and that she knows he feels. But he isn’t ready to reciprocate and so she stays her tongue not wanting to say them again and apply pressure where not intended. He knows how she feels.

But it’s yet another thing to be furious with _Dad_ over. The only time he’s said those all-powerful words in his long life had been to his parents. And it had brought him nothing but pain and heartache. A once favored son abandoned and cast away after rebelling in the name of Free Will. Replaced by more obedient, reverential siblings. It’s no wonder he couldn’t say them now. He may never able to. But she hopes that one day he will.

His forehead drops to her shoulder as he pants from exertion and a thin sheen of sweat covers their overheated skin. Before his weight becomes unbearable, he slides out of her and drops to her side, expressive, sated eyes watching her like she’s hung the sun, moon and stars.

When she knows the quite the opposite is true.

He literally hung them in the sky. This stupidly complicated fallen, celestial angel with the literal God-given power of Creation.

And he’s hers.

She lifts a hand to draw his dark head down to her breast and he settles with a happy, sated smile, long limbs wrapped protectively around her. The physical vulnerability they began their, at times, tumultuous relationship with giving way to a much more intimate one.

One of the heart.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Actions spoke louder than words, anyway.

He’s spent years saying _I love you_ with those.

END


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